he sole companionship of
those with whom he could speak plainly of his distress.

We took our cue from him with an evident alacrity. Every one looked as if
he or she were saying something that began with a half-apologetic
"Well..."; and Mrs. Jervaise interpreted our spirit when she remarked to
the company in general, "Well, it's very late, I'm afraid, and I dare say
we've all got a lot to do before we start for church. We shall have to
leave soon after half-past ten," she explained.

Frank had already left the room when she said that, she herself went out
with her elder daughter, and the four of us who remained, all visitors,
were left to pair with each other as we chose. It was Miss Tattersall who
determined the arrangement. She cleverly avoided the submissive glance of
little Nora Bailey, and asked me unequivocally if I would care to take a
"stroll" with her in the garden.

I agreed with a touch of eagerness and followed her, wondering if her
intriguing sentence before breakfast had been nothing more than a clever
piece of chicane, planned to entice me into a tete-a-tete.

(I admit that this may sound like a detestable symptom of vanity on my
part, but, indeed, I do not mean to imply that she cared a snap of the
fingers for me personally. She was one of those women who must have some
man in tow, and it happened that I was the only one available for that
week-end. Frank was supposed to be in love with Miss Bailey; Gordon Hughes
was engaged to some girl in the north, and used that defence without shame
when it suited him.)

I did not, however, permit Miss Tattersall to see my eagerness when we
were alone on the terrace together. If she was capable of chicane, so was
I; and I knew that if she had anything to tell me, she would not be able
to keep it to herself for long. If, on the other hand, I began to ask
questions, she would certainly take a pleasure in tantalising me.

"What's this about going to church?" was my opening.

"Didn't you know?" she replied. "We all go in solemn procession. We
walk--for piety's sake--it's over a mile across the fields--and we are
rounded up in lots of time, because it's a dreadful thing to get there
after the bell has stopped."

"Interrupting the service," I put in with the usual inanity that is
essential to the maintenance of this kind of conversation.

"It's worse than that," Miss Tattersall explained gaily; "because Mr.
Sturton waits for the Jervaises, to begin. When we're lat